


Halcyon

by Persuade_me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-02 00:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persuade_me/pseuds/Persuade_me
Summary: He was twenty-eight years old, and the only place he’d ever felt like he truly belonged was a farm where he spent three months a decade before.Gendry reflects on a friend he thinks he lost a long time ago.





	Halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> I was at a conference last week where we had therapy dogs, and this ended up just pouring out of me. I hope you like it.

Keep Away the Konference Kreep with K-9 Kuddles  
Relaxation Room  
Therapy Dogs Available Everyday in Velaryon 2B (located on the lower level)  
9:00 - 11:00 - Ser Barksalot   
11:00 - 1:00 - Azor Ahai  
1:00 - 3:00 - Dog  
3:00 - 5:00 - Nymeria

Gendry stared at the poster and snorted in derision. Therapy dogs. Like architects needed therapy dogs. Conferences were bad enough with all the networking, the overeager vendors, and the endless inane conversation, now they were offering adult coloring stations and therapy dogs. As if they were overgrown children who needed a juice box and a fruit snack after their afternoon nap. All he wanted was to get through his own presentation, attend the few sessions that caught his interest, and then head back to Storm’s End and get back to work.

Turning to go, his eye fell on the bottom of the flyer, and he paused. _ Nymeria. _ A memory from long ago bubbled up through his scorn. 

_ “If you had a pet, what would it be and what would you name it?” _

_ “That’s a stupid question. We’re supposed to ask good questions.” _

_ “That’s what I want to ask. You have to answer, those are the rules.” _

_ “A wolf.” _

_ “Gods, Arry, you can’t have a wolf.” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “Because.” _

_ “Well, that’s what I want. I want a wolf, and I’d name her Nymeria.” _

She was thirteen that summer. Sad grey eyes, choppy brown hair that looked like she’d cut it herself in a fit of anger, which as it turned out she had. A tiny thing, balancing on that strange edge between girl and young woman. Drowning in grief so fresh, there were days that he could almost smell it rolling off of her. He was eighteen, freshly aged out of the system, and pissed off at everything and everyone. 

They’d been thrown together under circumstances that even the strongest would have found difficult to bear. Her father’s recent death had been too much for her mother, so all the Stark children had been shipped off for the summer. But there were too many of them to all stay at the same place, so Arya had been alone save for him. Even now, ten years later, he felt an irrational surge of anger at a dead woman he never met for essentially abandoning her children when they’d needed her the most. For sending Arya to a virtual stranger with not even the comfort of a sibling to help her through her grief.

He did his best for Arya, but there were days when he was barely hanging on himself. It was only by pure luck that they’d even ended up in the same place. He’d had nowhere to go, and his time at the group home was running out. He’d been completely without direction of any sort until Davos had shown up out of the blue and offered him a job at a horse farm in the Riverlands. With no other options, Gendry packed his meager belongings and left King’s Landing without a second glance. 

For Arya, her presence at Crossroads Stables had been a strange, convoluted thing. Managed by the daughter of a friend of a friend of Catelyn Stark’s father, a chance meeting between another friend and Catelyn’s sister Lysa had somehow resulted in Arya spending the summer there barely two months after Ned Stark’s sudden death. As the only two people under the age of forty on the farm, they’d naturally gravitated towards each other, and despite their age difference, they became friends.

_ “Tell me about your dad.” _

_ It’s late, and they’re the only ones still awake. _

_ “Why? He’s dead now. He doesn’t matter.” _

_ “He does matter, Arya. You loved him, and you need to remember the good things.” _

_ “Like what?” _

_ “What was your favorite thing to do with him?” _

_ She thinks for a moment. “Sometimes, after everyone else had gone to bed, we’d sit up in the kitchen eating ice cream, and I’d tell him about my day. He’d just...listen. No judgment like my mum and Sansa or trying to fix things like Robb and Jon. Just listened to me.” She fiddles with her hair, tugging on the ends and twisting it around her fingers. Tears are glistening in her eyes, but he pretends he doesn’t see when she wipes them away. _

_ “That sounds nice.” He thinks about squeezing her hand or putting his arm around her shoulder to comfort her, but he ends up just patting her awkwardly on the arm. _

_ She sighs, her breath exhaling shakily. “It was.” _

_ He sits beside her on the wide back porch, staring out at the spot where the faint security lights are swallowed by the dark. After a moment he stands. _

_ “Where are you going?” _

_ “I’ll be right back.” _

_ He’s beside her again in about five minutes, a cherry popsicle in each hand. _

_ “Masha didn’t have any ice cream.” He gives no other explanation, but she doesn’t need one to understand. _

_ They sit without speaking, the chirping of the crickets and the distant hooting of an owl occasionally punctuated by the quiet sounds of slurping as they eat their frozen treats. _

_ “Tell me about your day,” he says. And she does. _

_ It becomes routine, sitting on the back porch late at night, sharing stories and cherry popsicles. They slowly learn the intricacies of one another, shedding their own personal armor along the way. _

_ Their friendship is defined by a strange kind of casual intensity. Joking and laughing during the day, and then revealing everything that makes them who they are at night, as if the dark cover of the night sky could somehow protect them from the risk of vulnerability. _

_ For Gendry, it is the first time anyone has ever broken through his walls. The first time anyone has cared since his mother. _

“Gendry!”

He starts, shaking himself out of his reverie to see his boss standing in front of him looking slightly annoyed. Gendry got the impression that he’d been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Oh. Hey, Tobho. Sorry, zoned out for a minute.” 

“Then zone back in. We’re meeting with the reps from Iron Gate in thirty minutes.”

Gendry groaned.

“I know, I know. You hate networking, but this is important. If they like our proposal, we’ll be able to expand, and I won’t be your boss anymore, I’ll be your partner. So put on a happy face and pretend you like people for once.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “Where are we meeting them?”

“The hotel bar. You probably have enough time to run upstairs for a quick shower if you want.”

He nodded and agreed to meet Tobho in front of the bar in twenty-five minutes before heading for the elevators. 

He hadn’t thought of Arya, really and truly thought about her except in passing in almost a year. He’d searched for her on social media several times over the years, but she was practically a ghost. There was one blurry shot of her buried on Sansa’s Instagram, which was saying something considering how prolific Sansa Stark was when it came to artfully shot, heavily filtered photographs. But beyond that, there was nothing. Not that he was much better. His long abandoned Facebook had no profile picture, a fake last name, and the last thing he’d posted was five years before as a concession to a social media obsessed ex. If she had searched for him, she wouldn’t have had much luck either.

_ “When are you leaving?” His voice is quiet. _

_ She clenches her jaw, and he can feel the hurt that seems to be pouring out of her. “Friday,” she said, her voice painfully bitter. “I get one week at Winterfell before she ships me off again.” _

_ He doesn’t understand how her mother can do this to her. “Could I-” He cuts himself off, unsure of what he’s feeling. _

_ Arya turns to him. “Could you what?” _

_ He swallows and looks away from her. “Could I write to you? Or call?” _

_ She doesn’t respond, and he glances back to see her smiling shyly at him. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.” She frowns. “I don’t know what my address will be in Braavos, though. Are you staying here?” _

_ “I think so? No one’s said anything about me going anywhere else, so you could write to me here.” _

_ Her body seems to melt a bit, a tension he hadn’t realized she was holding slipping away with the slump of her shoulders. She nods. “I’ll send you my address as soon as I can then.” _

_ Except she can’t, because the very next day, while she is out shopping with Masha, Melissandre shows up with a letter from Davos to whisk him away. She barely gives him time to write a note of explanation before hustling him into the car and speeding away. _

Dear Arya,   
Davos has sent for me, and they’re making me leave now. I don’t know where I’m going or why. I’ll write to you at Winterfell when I know. I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.   
Gendry

_ There is so much more he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how. How can he possibly explain what her friendship has meant to him? He stares at the hastily written note for a moment, debating with himself if he should add more, but then Melissandre tells him to hurry up, so he just leaves it with Masha’s nephew, asking him to make sure Arya gets it. _

_ He turns in his seat, watching the house fade into the distance, the feeling of loss so heavy in his gut he thinks he might be sick. _

He never saw her again. Not in person anyway. Two years later, he endlessly rewatched that short clip from her mother and brother’s funeral that seemed to play on an infinite loop on every news station in the country. She hadn’t looked much taller, and with her head bowed and angled away from the cameras, he couldn’t even see her face, but he knew it was her, that slight tilt to her head telling him just as much as if she’d been staring straight at him.

He had tried, truly he had. When he’d arrived at Storm’s End, he sent a letter to Winterfell, but he never knew if it just hadn’t gotten there before she left for Braavos or if she chose not to respond. He sent his address to Masha too, but it turned out she’d had a heart attack shortly after he left, and her nephew had sold the farm. He didn’t have an email address or a phone number or any other way to contact Arya besides sporadic letters sent to a place he wasn’t even sure she still called home. He even tried to find her school in Braavos, but she’d never mentioned the name, and the few letters he sent to the boarding schools he could find all reappeared in his mailbox stamped _ Return to Sender _. 

Gendry stood under the shower, unable to pull his thoughts from Arya. One of his biggest regrets in life was losing her, but at eighteen he didn’t know how to find her and asking for help had been unthinkable. His own situation at Storm’s End had felt so tenuous that he couldn’t bring himself to ask his uncle for anything. The revelation that his father was the late Robert Baratheon, that his uncle Stannis was the reason Davos had come for him, that he now had every opportunity in the world, starting with a home in what basically amounted to a castle was so unbelievable that he couldn’t help but wonder when it was all going to come crashing down. 

So he’d floundered around for a year, sending letters to Winterfell every other month and trawling the internet for any mention of Arya Stark, but there was nothing. After another year and the tragic accident that had killed her mother and older brother, he had sent one final note to Winterfell, telling himself that if she didn’t contact him after that, he’d leave her be.

Since then, he’d mostly tried to look back on that summer fondly, like a favorite childhood story that you loved to revisit occasionally but had mostly outgrown. He had grown resigned to the fact that no matter how many times he’d typed her name into a search box over the years, Arya Stark would live for him only in his memory.

Gendry stepped out of the shower, toweling off his damp black hair, the action stirring another memory.

_ Sheets of rain are flooding the fields, and they’re on the far side of the farm, trapped in an outbuilding that is at least a twenty minute walk back to the house. From the looks of it, they’ll be waiting here a while. _

_ “We should play a game.” _

_ “I don’t want to play a game, Arry,” he snaps at her. He’s grumpy, soaked to the skin and trying desperately to look anywhere but at her. She’s only thirteen, but her wet shirt is clinging to her, revealing curves he hadn’t realized she had. So he sits in the doorway, pissed at himself for even noticing, staring out at the rain. _

_ He hears her stomp away, but she can’t go far. The building is little more than a shed, apparently used for some kind of storage, because after a moment, a towel hits him in the head. He turns to see her wrapping her own towel around her shoulders, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. _

_ “Dry your stupid hair,” she hisses at him before spinning back around to rummage through the boxes that are stacked against the back wall. He rubs his head with the threadbare towel and briefly considers taking his shirt off to wring it out, but decides against it, draping the towel around his shoulders instead. _

_ Something hard hits the back of his head, and he twists back to find an apple sitting on the floor behind him. Arya is grinning at him, holding up a bag of chips, a handful of candy bars, and two bottles of water. _

_ “I found someone’s snack stash,” she says, moving over to sit beside him on the floor. _

_ He takes a candy bar without speaking, grateful for something to do. _

_ “Sorry for snapping at you,” he says after a minute. _

_ “It’s okay,” she replies quietly. “I didn’t mean to bug you.” _

_ He whips his head around to stare at her, but she is looking determinedly at her feet. “You weren’t bugging me, Arya.” She keeps her eyes on the floor, but he can see the doubt on her face. “Really you weren’t.” _

_ She shrugs. “I get in the way a lot. Bug people with questions. It’s why they called me Arya Underfoot.” _

_ He narrows his eyes. He can hear the insecurity in her voice. “You might be underfoot sometimes, but you don’t bother me.” _

_ She shrugs again. “It’s better than Arya Horseface.” _

_ He doesn’t think he heard her right. “What?” _

_ “Arya Horseface,” she says again, a slight grimace on her face. _

_ “Who the fuck calls you that?” _

_ “Sansa.” _

_ His blood boils. _

_ “And her friend Jeyne. Jeyne more than Sansa really,” she continues. Then she goes very still, and he knows whatever she is about to say is bad. “Before I left to come here, Jeyne said it was fitting. Horseface going to a horse farm.” _

_ He wants to punch Jeyne, wherever she is. _

_ Then he stares at her, really studies her face. He’d recognized she was pretty when they first met, in the same way you can see that someone is tall or has blonde hair. It’s just a fact. Gendry is tall. Arya is pretty. But the more he looks at her, the more he sees that she’s not just pretty. She has the potential to be absolutely beautiful. Right now, she’s young, and although her face hasn’t quite matured yet, he can see the shadow of the woman she will become, and for just a moment it almost takes his breath away. _

_ “Is Jeyne blind?” _

_ She jerks her head to look at him. “What?” _

_ “Is Jeyne blind or is she just a bitch then?” _

_ She stares at him, confusion flashing in her eyes. _

_ He sighs. “Anyone who calls you horseface is either blind or a bitch. So which is it?” _

_ A smile slowly spreads across her face. “She’s a bitch. Always trying to get me in trouble. One good thing about coming here is not having to put up with her for the summer.” _

_ He nods at her firmly. “Hand me those chips, Arry. If I have to be stuck out here with you, I don’t want to starve.” _

_ The bag of chips hits him in the face, and he laughs. _

He met Tobho downstairs at the bar, faking his way through the drinks and then dinner with the people from Iron Gate. The small talk was unbearable, but he perked up when it came time for them to discuss their potential expansion. Gendry hated talking about himself, but the business proposal was solid, and he could talk about sustainable housing all day long. So they talked long into the night, and by the time the bar closed down, they were shaking hands, the partnership a done deal. 

Back in his room, slightly giddy from their success and perhaps a bit from the drinks, he fell onto his bed still fully clothed. The new partnership meant he’d be moving away from Storm’s End, opening a new office somewhere else in Westeros, the Reach perhaps, or maybe the Riverlands. Somewhere other than where he’s spent the last ten years of his life. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be even a little upset about that. 

Storm’s End was never home, not really. Nor was King’s Landing, except for that tiny one bedroom apartment he could barely remember. Even Renly’s place, with all its warm welcome never felt like home. He was twenty-eight years old, and the only place he’d ever felt like he truly belonged was a farm where he spent three months a decade before.

He sighed, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling of his hotel room. He couldn’t get Arya out of his thoughts. This had happened before. He could go for months or nearly a year sometimes without truly thinking of her, then something would trigger him, and he would spend days reliving their time together, the memories running through his mind like a film he couldn’t turn off.

_ “You’re doing it wrong, Gendry!” She’s clearly frustrated with him, reaching out to try to stop him brushing the dark brown stallion he’s attempting to groom. _

_ “Well, excuse me, m’lady,” he huffs. “Not everyone grew up riding horses like you, you know. I know shit about horses. I never even touched one before a week ago.” _

_ “What?” She is incredulous. “Then why did you want a job here?” _

_ He shrugs. “Didn’t.” _

_ She stares at him. _

_ He sighs and drops the brush into her still outstretched hand. “I don’t know why I’m here. Someone just showed up at my group home and offered me a job. Didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I took it.” He moves to plop down on the nearby stool, not wanting to see the inevitable look of judgment or pity in her eyes. _

_ She doesn’t respond immediately, just turns and runs the brush over the horse’s back, murmuring quiet nonsense to it as she does. “That’s weird.” _

_ “Yeah. It really is. Davos, the man who brought me here, is nice, but I still don’t know why he came for me.” He rubs his hand over his face. “He just said Crossroads needed good workers, and he’d heard I was strong.” He pauses. “I got the feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me. I mean, I don’t even know his last name, and he shows up out of nowhere? There’s got to be more to it than that.” _

_ She looks at him thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re a long lost prince or something.” _

_ He snorts. _

_ “No, really,” she insists, a light in her eyes he hasn’t seen before. “You’re the secret prince, and Davos, you said? Davos is your fairy godfather.” She laughs, and he can’t help but join in. _

_ “Well, if I’m the secret prince, then I better learn to ride.” He peers at her closely. “Know anyone who can teach me?” _

_ She grins. _

He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of bright grey eyes and a brilliant smile.

His phone alarm jolted him awake, and Gendry opened his eyes blearily. It was the first full day of the conference, and he was already exhausted before it’s even started. He had his own presentation that afternoon, but other than that, his schedule was open. 

He showered, dressed, and took the elevator downstairs to visit the breakfast area of the hotel. Tobho was already there, a soggy bowl of cereal forgotten on the table, papers spread in front of him. 

“Gendry, hey.” His boss, soon to be partner, looked up as he approached. “Just going over the notes for the presentation later.”

Gendry smiled and dropped his bag to the floor. “It’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly. “We’ve gone over this so many times, I could do it in my sleep.” He made his way over to the buffet, selecting a bagel and some cantaloupe and grabbing a coffee before rejoining Tobho at their table.

“Do you know which sessions you want to go to today?” 

Gendry shook his head. “Haven’t had a chance to really look over the schedule yet. I know there’s one on making historic homes energy efficient that sounded interesting, and someone’s doing one on those new solar roof tiles, but other than that, I don’t know.” 

Tobho picked up a small booklet and passed it across the table. “I’ve marked a few you might be interested in.” 

Gendry flipped through the pages, noting the small check marks by several sessions. A word caught his eye, and he stopped. _ Green Homes in a Stone City: Problems and Solutions in Braavos. _ Instantly, she was in his thoughts again.

_ “I thought you wanted to go to Braavos.” _

_ They’re on the back porch again, and he is confused by her distress. _

_ “I did. I do.” She pulls her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. “It just- this isn’t the way I wanted to go.” _

_ Her eyes are bright and watery, and he can tell she’s holding back tears. She’s been in a strange mood ever since she hung up the phone with her mother that morning. _

_ “She’s not sending me because I want to go. She’s sending me because she wants me gone.” Her voice is small, insecure, and Gendry wants to put his arms around her, to tell her that of course her mother wants her, that it’s going to be alright. But he doesn’t. _

_ “Sansa’s going to King’s Landing Prep. Bran’s going north to Weirwood Academy. She’s even sending Rickon away! He’s only seven, and she’s sending him to Skagos of all places!” She sounds more upset on her brother’s behalf than anything he’s heard from her all summer. “Robb’s the only one staying in Winterfell, but he’s the _ heir _ so of course he gets to stay.” Her voice rises, and he can almost taste her anger, her hurt. “And Jon’s already gone. He’s at the military academy at the Wall now.” She scoffs, her voice sharp with pain. “I’m surprised it took her as long as it did to get rid of him.” _

_ She turns her head away from him. “I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again,” she whispers. “It might be years.” _

_ He scoots next to her and wraps one arm around her shoulders, deciding that she needs comfort more than he needs to keep his hands to himself. She leans over, resting her head against him, her body shuddering as she cries. _

_ They don’t speak about that night again. _

It was lunch time before Gendry realized he’d left his flash drive back in his hotel room. He ran upstairs, grateful for an excuse to beg off the invitation to join some acquaintances for lunch. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, not really. He’d just never enjoyed large groups of people, preferring to spend his time with one or two friends. It made getting through college easier since he wasn’t completely distracted with a social life. 

And really, he had been so scared that everything was going to be snatched away, that Stannis would decide to pull his support, that he would wake up one morning to find himself back in the group home in Flea Bottom, that everything had been a dream. He was terrified of losing it all, so he just worked hard and mostly kept to himself. But then, he’d never liked other people very much, not really. Just a few over his lifetime, starting with Arya who somehow managed to wiggle her way in to where he never let anyone.

_ “Geenndryy, come with us. Pleeeease.” She is looking up at him, wide eyed and pouting. “You’ll have fun. I promise.” _

_ He can see Masha’s nieces Jeyne and Willow waiting on the porch through the windows beside the front door. They’re visiting for the weekend, and Arya makes friends with them instantly, drafting Jeyne into driving them into town for ice cream. _

_ He shakes his head and glares at her. “I don’t wanna.” He knows he sounds like a petulant toddler, but he doesn’t care. He had been looking forward to their planned ride before Jeyne and Willow showed up, and he’s annoyed that these two people have ruined his night. _

_ “But we never get ice cream, Gendry,” she whines. “I’m tired of cherry popsicles.” _

_ He feels like she’s slapped him. Cherry popsicles are _ their _ thing, and he lashes out. “Fine,” he spits. “Go get ice cream. You don’t have to eat any more cherry popsicles.” He catches the pain on her face as he slams the door, and guilt floods through him. “Arya, wait,” he calls, opening his bedroom door, but she ignores him, stomping down the stairs and out the door. _

_ He thinks about going after her, about trying to explain. He’s halfway down the stairs when he hears the car start, and by the time he reaches the front door, she’s gone. _

_ He waits for her that night in their spot on the back porch, but he isn’t sure if she’ll come. He knows he hurt her, and he is angry with himself for not controlling his temper. _

_ “Gendry?” Her voice is quiet, cautious, unsure, and he hates himself for making her feel that way. _  
_  
“I’m sorry,” he says, turning to face her. “I didn’t mean it like that.”_

_ “Neither did I.” She settles down next to him on the edge of the porch and hands him a pint of rocky road. It’s his favorite, and he feels a wave of shame wash over him. _

_ “You shouldn’t have brought me anything with how I behaved. You didn’t deserve that.” _

_ “No, I didn’t.” She sighs and pulls two spoons out of her back pocket, passing one over to him. “Why were you so mad anyway?” _

_ He shrugs, not sure how to put it in words. How he suddenly feels like her second choice. Like she is only spending time with him because there is no one else. Like the minute a better option came along, she dropped him. “Dunno.” _

_ “I really wish you had come with us. There was a cool little junk shop full of neat shit that you would have liked.” She takes the pint of ice cream out of his hand and opens it, digging her spoon in before handing it back to him. _

_ The ice cream is sweet, cold on his tongue, and he closes his eyes to savor it. Treats like this were rare at the group home. _

_ “Jeyne was asking about you.” Her voice cuts through his chocolate induced haze. _

_ “What? Why?” _

_ She gazes down at her shoes. “I think she thinks you’re cute.” She’s still not looking at him, and he can see a faint flush on her cheeks. _

_ His heart flips, and he immediately scolds himself. Thirteen, she’s thirteen, he tells himself. He forces out a laugh. “That’s nice for her then.” _

_ Her eyes dart to his face and then back to her shoes. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?” she asks, a strange tone to her voice. _

_ He shrugs. “She’s okay, I guess. Just not my type.” _

_ “Oh.” She leans over to get another bite of ice cream. “What is your type then?” _

_ He shovels rocky road into his mouth to give himself a moment to think of a response other than “you in about five years” and immediately regrets it, the brain freeze spreading down his skull. His face contorts in pain as he groans, and she snorts. _

_ “Shouldn’t eat ice cream so fast, stupid,” she says, but there is an undercurrent of affection in her words, and he smiles. _

_ “Tell me about your day then,” he says, ignoring her earlier question and hoping she doesn’t ask again. _

_ She tells him about Darry’s quaint little downtown, how they’d visited all the shops, and fed the ducks in the park. She practically glows as she describes how she and Willow had competed to see who could jump the highest from the swings at the playground, and he finds himself transfixed by her face. _

_ She lapses into silence, biting her lip and looking at him nervously before digging her hand into her pocket and pulling out a closed fist. “I got you something.” _

_ He starts in surprise as she drops what looks like a string in his lap. Handing the pint of rocky road off to her, he picks it up by one end, examining it curiously. It is a necklace, black leather cord with a small silver charm dangling from the clasp. The charm catches the moonlight as it slowly spins around to reveal a bull. _

_ He stares at in wonder. No one has given him a gift since his mother died. He turns to say thank you, but all he can manage is “Why?” _

_ She flushes and looks down at her feet again. “It made me think of you.” _

_ “A bull? Why?” _

_ She bumps her shoulder against him. “Cause you’re so stubborn, stupid. And you stomp around like a big, dumb bull.” She’s resolutely looking away from him, out at the dark behind the house. _

_ “Arya.” His voice is insistent, and she turns to face him, her eyes filled with doubt. “Thank you.” He puts the necklace on, and her lips curve up. “I swear, I’ll never take it off.” _

Gendry reached up, tugging his collar aside to grasp the charm that rested against his chest. Arya’s necklace had been around his neck for so long, he sometimes forgot that it was even there. It’d been a source of contention with his last girlfriend who was determined to polish him up into something she deemed more respectable. The last straw had been when she’d pulled it off his neck and tried to throw it away. She was incredulous when he dumped her on the spot _ “over a cheap, grubby necklace?!” _ but it wasn’t about that. It was that she couldn’t see him for who he was. So few people did. Davos, Tobho, Hot Pie. And Arya. 

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of her, but it felt like swimming upstream. The memories of her surrounding him, drowning out everything else. 

_ “Hurry up, slow poke!” Her horse is halfway across the paddock before he’s even mounted his, and she is shrieking in delight. _

_ A wolf howls somewhere nearby in the dark, and she leans into him slightly for a moment before howling back, laughing hysterically when he tries frantically to shush her. _

_ She sits cross legged on the ground next to him as he pokes at their campfire, trying to coax the flames back to life. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a roasted marshmallow, Gendry,” she says pulling another one from the bag and popping it into her mouth. _

_ “I’m not gonna get any if you don’t stop eating them,” he says laughing, reaching across her to snatch the bag out of her hands, but immediately tosses it aside when she practically climbs on top of him to grab for it, his face flushing at the contact. Thirteen, he reminds himself. _

_ He finds her sitting on the riverbank, staring at nothing, fresh tear tracks down her cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just sits beside her quietly, pulling at the grass beneath their feet. When she turns to look at him, a sad smile on her face, he wants like anything to take away her pain. _

_ A line of red drips down her hand, her cherry popsicle melting in the heat. He stares for half a second as she licks it off before jerking his head away and chastising himself again. Thirteen. She is thirteen. And he’s not a pervert. _

_ They are sitting on the back porch, playing cards and betting with a pile of candy. He has a terrible poker face, but hers is unreadable. When he loses his final Tootsie Roll, she laughs and divides her winnings between them. _

_ He shifts in the saddle, uncomfortable and a little frightened on the massive horse’s back, but she is looking at him so encouragingly that he pulls his shoulders back and nods at her to begin, trusting that she’d never put him in danger. _

His phone was ringing, the shrill tone startling him out of his thoughts. Tobho’s name was on the screen, and he swore when he saw the time. Grabbing his laptop bag, he was already out the door when he answered. “On my way down, Tobho.”

“For fuck’s sake, Gendry, it’s 3:10. Our presentation starts in 20 minutes. Where have you been?!” 

He ran through the halls, panting when he arrived at their designated room which was filling up quickly with conference attendees. Tobho was already inside, his own laptop plugged in and their slideshow loaded on the screen. 

“What is wrong with you? You have been completely out of it.”

Gendry frowned. “Nothing. Just had some stuff on my mind.”

Tobho narrowed his eyes at him. “You up for this then?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. I told you, I can do this in my sleep.”

Tobho eyed him dubiously, but nodded. “Don’t let me down.”

Gendry pulled up a chair behind the presenters’ table and watched as a few latecomers filed into the front row. 

“Did you see that dog?” A woman in a dark suit was leaning over to speak to a man who had just settled in to his seat.

“Which one? I’ve been to see all of them today.” 

Gendry huffed quietly in amusement. Apparently, some architects did like therapy dogs.

“The last one. Nymeria.”

The man’s face lit up. “Yes! She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” 

Gendry found himself leaning forward to listen.

“She is! Although, I really don’t think you can call her a dog. That’s a wolf if I ever saw one.”

He blinked. 

_ “Well, that’s what I want. I want a wolf, and I’d name her Nymeria.” _

It couldn’t be. It absolutely couldn’t be. He started to lean forward, to ask them for more information, but then Tobho stood and cleared his throat and Gendry had no choice but to join his boss beside the podium.

Afterwards, he couldn’t have told anyone what he said, but Tobho seemed happy so Gendry assumed it had all gone to plan. He started to head for the door the second they were through, intent on getting to that ridiculous relaxation room, but several of the attendees surged forward to throw questions at them. When the crowd of people had dwindled down to two, Gendry tapped Tobho on the shoulder and gestured to the door, receiving a nod of acknowledgement in return. 

Glancing at his watch, he saw that he had ten minutes before the therapy dogs finished up for the night, and if he remembered correctly, they were on the other side of the convention center, so he knew he had to hurry. 

_ “That’s a wolf if I ever saw one.” _

It really couldn’t be.

_ He is nervous, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh as he waits for her to join him on the porch. Masha’s party is still in full swing inside, but he can’t stand the crowd of people so he fled to the safety of their spot. It’s the middle of August, and he knows she’ll be leaving soon. _

_ He sits out there alone for close to thirty minutes before she comes looking for him, her cheeks flushed and her smile bright. “How long have you been out here, Gendry? You missed all the fun!” _

_ He shrugs. “I like it out here. Quieter. Less people to deal with.” _

_ She laughs and drops down beside him. “There’s my grumpy, antisocial Gendry.” She wiggles a bit, tugging at the dress Masha had forced on her. “Sometimes I wonder how you even put up with me as much as you seem to hate everyone.” _

_ “I don’t hate everyone,” he says, slightly affronted. _

_ “No?” She raises an eyebrow at him. _

_ “I don’t hate you,” he says softly, and her smile fades, replaced by a look he can’t decipher. _

_ They stare at each other for a moment before she looks away, pulling at her dress again. “This stupid dress is ridiculous,” she says, waving her hand at the embroidered acorns around the collar. “I can’t believe she made me wear it. I look like an oak tree.” _

_ He pulls back to take her in. “Nice, though,” he says. “A nice oak tree.” _

_ She frowns, like she doesn’t trust what he is saying, and he wants to tell her so many things, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the thing he’s been carrying around for days. “This is for you,” he says and drops it into her lap. _

_ Her lips part, and her eyes narrow as she stares down at the necklace in her lap. Slowly, she picks it up, placing the silver charm flat in her palm as she raises it to her face. It is just like the one she gave him, but in place of a bull is a wolf. She doesn’t move for a long moment, and just when he thinks he’s made a terrible mistake, she turns to him, her eyes shining. _

_ “Why?” _

_ He shrugs. “It made me think of you.” _

_ Without warning, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for everything.” She pulls back and smiles widely at him before putting the necklace on. “I swear, I’ll never take it off.” _

_ Two days later, he is gone. _

His heart was racing, and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be. It was impossible for her to be here. If he said it enough, he wouldn’t be disappointed when it was true. In front of him was a big sign that read “Therapy Dogs - 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM” with a red arrow pointing to an open door. He glanced down at his watch, 4:58.

_ “Hi! I’m Arya, who’re you?” _

_ He grunts at her, hoping she’ll go away and leave him to work in peace, but she just stands there, staring at him expectantly. “Gendry,” he says grudgingly. _

_ “Gendry,” she repeats. “It’s nice to meet you, Gendry!” She smiles widely at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and he remembers what Masha said about the girl who was coming to stay. Her father had died, and she was all alone. He knew about being alone, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. _

_ He turns to face her fully and sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Arya.” She shakes it, and he smiles at her. “You wanna go see the horses?” Her eyes light up, and a strange feeling of pride washes through him as she nods eagerly. “Come on then,” he says, and she follows him across the yard, peppering questions at him all the way. _

He took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Sprawled out on the floor was the biggest dog he’d ever seen. Or maybe it actually was a wolf. The dog lifted her head and fixed him with her gaze, staring at him for a moment before laying her head down again. Behind her, a woman was crouched on the floor, packing some dog toys into a black duffle bag. She turned slightly at his presence, and the sight of her profile made his heart stop.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for a wayward ball. “We’re done for the day, but-”

_ “Arya,” _ her name slipped out in a shaky whisper, and her head snapped up, her face startled.

He stared at her, disbelief coursing through him. It was her. It was really her. After ten long years, it was her, and gods, she was beautiful. Far more than he ever thought she’d be. In fact, he was fairly certain she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Gendry?” Her mouth fell open, and her grey eyes were wide. He nodded, and her hand flew to her mouth as she fell back to sit on the floor. Her eyes raked over him, and he saw tears gathering in the corners, tears he knew were reflected in his own eyes.

He moved, faster than he knew he could, and then he was on his knees beside her, pulling her into his arms. He felt her arms wrap around his neck and heard a small sob as she buried her face against him. 

Gendry held her for what must have been eternity, afraid if he let go she’d vanish for another ten years, but Arya didn’t seem inclined to move either. After a very long moment, she pulled back, and he reluctantly released his grip on her. She stared at him, eyes wet and searching his.

“Gods, is it really you?” she whispered.

“It’s really me.”

She sat back on her heels and thrust out her hand. “Give me your phone."

“What?”

She wiggled her fingers. “Your phone.” 

Gendry reached in his pocket and handed it to her feeling slightly bewildered. He watched as she opened his messages and fired off a quick text, a muffled ding echoing from across the room.

“There. Now you’re never getting rid of me,” she said smiling.

His heart swelled, and he pulled her into another tight hug. “I don’t intend to,” he breathed into her ear, gratified at the way her body pressed against him at his words. “I missed you, Arry.”

Arya nuzzled her head into his neck, and sighed, her breath tickling against his skin. “I missed you too,” she said, the hand against the back of his head winding through his hair and tugging him closer.

A discreet cough from across the room broke them from their embrace. Standing in the doorway was a man holding a vacuum cleaner. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to lock up this room now.”

They looked at each other, identical expressions of amused embarrassment on their faces. Standing, he reached down and pulled her to her feet, grinning broadly and feeling lighter than he had in years. “You want to grab dinner?”

“Gods, yes. I just need to take Nymeria upstairs to my room first if that’s okay.”

“She’s beautiful,” he said, reaching down to let her sniff his hand before scratching her head, Nymeria leaning into his fingers happily.

“She’s my baby,” Arya grinned. “I got her right after mom and Robb’s accident, don’t know what I would have done without her.” She clicked her tongue at Nymeria, and the wolf clambered to her feet, nearly reaching Arya’s chest.

Gendry stared. “Holy shit. She’s huge.”

“Yeah, but she’s still a puppy at heart. Loves people, seems to know exactly when someone needs a snuggle. It’s partly why I got her certified as a therapy dog. We’ve been doing it for a few years now, visiting children’s hospitals, retirement homes, that kind of thing.” 

He smiled at her, warmth spreading through him. “That’s amazing, Arya,” he said, and he was ridiculously pleased to see her blush.

“I can’t believe you have a _ wolf _,” he said a few minutes later, shaking his head as they waited for the elevator.

“Half-wolf,” she corrected. 

“Still. You actually got a wolf, just like you said.”

“You remember that?” 

The doors slid open, and he followed her and Nymeria inside before responding. 

“I remember every minute of that summer, Arya,” he said. “I’ve never forgotten.” And he reached inside his shirt to pull out the bull necklace to show her. 

She stared at him a moment before letting out a short bark of laughter. Then her hand snaked underneath her collar and withdrew the wolf necklace he’d given her. “Neither have I,” she said, her eyes shining, and his stomach swooped in an odd combination of anticipation and relief. 

They ended up ordering room service in Arya’s suite, sharing a pizza at the small table while Nymeria napped on the floor. Gendry couldn’t stop staring at Arya, marveling that she was actually there, sitting across from him, his head spinning every time she smiled at him.

Her presence at the conference was a complete fluke, it turned out, a last minute favor for a friend. She had just returned to Westeros, having recently finished a year long journey across Essos, and without any immediate plans, she’d agreed to fill in for a Yorkie who’d had emergency surgery last week. 

“Would you think terribly of me if I said I’m kind of glad that Corky the Yorkie got hit by that bike?” he asked, reaching across the table for another slice of pizza.

Arya quirked her lips up into a half smile. “No,” she admitted. “I am too.”

“So what’s next for you?” he asked after a moment. “Are you going back home to Winterfell?”

She frowned at the bottle of beer in her hand. “I don’t know. Bran and Rickon are there, but Sansa’s in Highgarden, and Jon’s at the Wall.” She set down her drink and looked up at him. “I’ve been away for so long, that Winterfell doesn’t feel like home anymore, but neither does Braavos. If I’m really honest, nowhere does.” 

“I know how you feel,” he said wistfully. “I’ve been in Storm’s End for ten years, but I never felt like I belonged there, it never felt like home. Nowhere ever really has.” He thought of cherry popsicles and met her eyes. “Except once, a long time ago.” 

Something flashed across her face, but all she did was take another sip of her beer. “Is that where you went? Storm’s End?” 

He nodded and told her everything. About Davos and Stannis and his dead father. About college and his job and how he’ll be relocating soon. How he’s never felt settled and everything he could possibly think of from the last ten years, and she did the same. All about Braavos and school, traveling the world. How she feels out of place, unsure of where she fits in anymore. It felt like they’d never parted. 

“I tried to find you,” she told him quietly. They had banished Nymeria to the second bedroom and settled across from each other on the couch. Arya was curled up in the corner, her feet tucked underneath her, her hands toying with a throw pillow. “I searched Facebook and Instagram, and I Googled you so many times that any time I typed a G it autocompleted your name.”

“I tried to find you!” he exclaimed. “Did you know that your sister has one picture of you on her Instagram and that’s all that exists of you?”

She looked embarrassed for a moment, then laughed. “Maybe if I’d had one of my own you could have found me.”

“I thought-” He cut himself off, suddenly hesitant to voice his fears. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to be found. I wrote to you. At Winterfell. And when I never heard back, I thought maybe…”

She was shaking her head vehemently. “No. Gods, Gendry, no. I knew the letters were there, and I begged her to send them to me, but I don’t think she approved. She kept telling me soon, she’d send them soon, but she never did.” She paused, looking down, a mournful expression on her face. “And then she died, and I was so angry and sad and everything at Winterfell was a fucking mess. I got your card, but someone had opened it and already thrown away the envelope, and I was devastated because you said you’d leave me be after that.”

He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over and taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have given up. I should have kept trying.”

“It’s okay,” she said, shifting her hand to lace her fingers through his, causing his breath to stutter. “I could have tried harder too.” She smiled softly. “You know, I was a little bit in love with you that summer.”

Gendry inhaled sharply, his heart racing again. “I was a little bit in love with you too,” he confessed.

Arya scrunched up her face in amusement. “Gendry! I was thirteen!”

“Trust me,” he groaned. “I know. It was a source of great consternation for me.”

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “If you had told thirteen year old Arya that, I think she would have fainted from shock.”

“Eighteen year old Gendry would have been mortified if anyone had known.”

Arya pulled her legs out from underneath her, rotating her body to face him. Her eyes were dark, and her face was serious. “I’m not thirteen anymore, Gendry,” she said, her voice husky.

“And I’m not eighteen,” he said in a low tone, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a moment before lifting his eyes to see hers doing the same thing.

They stared at each other, chests rising and falling, their shuddering breaths the only sound in the room. He couldn’t tell who moved first, if he kissed her or if she kissed him, but it didn’t matter because Arya Stark was in his arms and she felt like home.

***

_ Six months later _

Boxes littered the small apartment, and he knew he’d be unpacking for weeks, but for now he was content just sitting on the balcony overlooking the fields behind the complex. In the distance, he could see two horses running through a pasture, tiny clouds of dust following in their wake.

Behind him, he heard the telltale click of the sliding door, and he smiled when two arms wrapped around him, a cherry popsicle in each hand. 

“Hey, love,” he said, reaching up to pull Arya into his lap.

“Watch out,” she warned, holding her arms out as she settled against his chest. “You’re going to get these all over you if you’re not careful.” 

He leaned forward to capture her lips, pulling her close. “Don’t care,” he murmured, kissing his way down her neck.

She drew in a quick breath, leaning her head to the side to give him better access. “You’ll get sticky,” she breathed.

“S’okay,” he said, sucking gently against her skin, and smiling when she hummed. “You can wash it off me later.” 

Arya sat up, pulling back to gaze at him, her eyes full of promise. “Later,” she confirmed, handing him his popsicle. “For now, just tell me about your day.”


End file.
